Queed eBook

West was a little surprised at the question, but he
gathered from her tone that she thought Mr. Queed
had some right to be.

“Why, I think not,” he answered, decisively.
“Why in the world should he be? Of course
it means only a delay of a year or two for him, at
the most. I betray no confidence when I tell
you that I do not expect to remain editor of the Post
forever.”

Sharlee appeared struck by this summary of the situation,
which, to tell the truth, had never occurred to her.
Therefore, West went on to sketch it more in detail
to her.

“The last thing in the world that I would do,”
said he, “is to stand in that boy’s light.
My one wish is to push him to the front just as fast
as he can stride. Why, I discovered Queed—­you
and I did, that is—­and I think I may claim
to have done something toward training him. To
speak quite frankly, the situation was this:
In spite of his great abilities, he is still very
young and inexperienced. Give him a couple of
years in which to grow and broaden and get his bearings
more fully, and he will be the very best man in sight
for the place. On the other hand, if he were
thrust prematurely into great responsibility, he would
be almost certain to make some serious error, some
fatal break, which would impair his usefulness, and
perhaps ruin it forever. Do you see my point?
As his sponsor on the Post, it seemed to me
unwise and unfair to expose him to the risks of forcing
his pace. That’s the whole story. I’m
not the king at all. I’m only the regent
during the king’s minority.”

Sharlee now saw how unjust she had been, to listen
to the small whisper of doubt of West’s entire
magnanimity.

“You are much wiser and farther-sighted than
I.”

“Perish the thought!”

“I’m glad my little Doctor—­only
he isn’t either little or very much of a doctor
any more—­has such a good friend at court.”

“Nonsense. It was only what anybody who
stopped to think a moment would have done.”

“Not everybody who stops to think is so generous....”

This thought, too, Mr. West abolished by a word.

“But you will like the work, won’t you!”
continued Sharlee, still self-reproachful. “I
do hope you will.”

“I shall like it immensely,” said West,
above pretending, as some regents would have done,
that he was martyring himself for his friend, the
king. “Where can you find any bigger or
nobler work? At Blames College of blessed memory,
the best I could hope for was to reach and influence
a handful of lumpish boys. How tremendously broader
is the opportunity on the Post! Think of having
a following of a hundred thousand readers a day! (You
allow three or four readers to a copy, you know.)
Think of talking every morning to such an audience
as that, preaching progress and high ideals, courage
and honesty and kindness and faith—­moulding
their opinions and beliefs, their ambitions, their
very habits of thought, as I think they ought to be
moulded ...”